


Half Asleep in the Dark Hours

by Juliette1713



Category: Northern Exposure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliette1713/pseuds/Juliette1713
Summary: All the nights Joel wanted her to stay and that time she finally did.  Set in late season 4 and early season 5.  Mostly canon compliant.  If you read a lot into what aired (and assume, like I do, they kept things up after Ill Wind), it all kind of works - until the end.  ;) Each chapter's next-nearest episode is noted at the start.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Love's Labor Mislaid

"Well, you were right..."

Maggie laughed. "There's something I never thought I'd hear pass your lips, Fleischman. Right about what?"

They laid facing each other in Joel's bed, tangled in his sheet, the comforter kicked to the foot of the bed. He had worked his knee between hers and his hand rested on her side. 

"Just...you said we could have sex every day of the week, and it would be just as good as it was the other day. And you were right..." He leaned on his arm, pulling himself to a half-sitting position. "What prompted this?"

"Oh *now* you ask," Maggie rolled her eyes, moving to half-sit like he was. 

"Just curious. We didn't talk much after you came in."

"I didn't come over to talk."

She leaned forward and kissed him. His hand drifted up her side to her shoulder, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck.

"I noticed," he said as they broke their kiss. He reached to gently tuck her hair behind her ear and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation...and then started. 

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said, sitting up and turning away from him to stand. She slipped his robe on and tied it around her waist. "Water?"

"Um...yeah. Sure. Water sounds good."

"Okay. Uh...kitchen, then." She was out his bedroom door before he could respond. He sat the rest of the way up, sheet wrapped around his lower half, watching her retreating form. 

That was strange. This whole thing felt a little fucked up, if he was being totally honest with himself. Not that he'd had the balls - or the desire - to question anything as it happened. She'd knocked on his door earlier as he lay reading on the couch, letting herself in before he could even finish standing up. 

He'd been surprised to see her, given where he assumed they'd left things in his office earlier that day in that awkward conversation about - and with - Mike. She'd basically told him that, while they'd had sex - great sex - what she really wanted was Mike. And yet here she was. Had she changed her mind? Maybe he should have clarified first.

He got out of bed and pulled his boxers on, recalling further how this had begun. He'd pretty well settled in for the night when she'd entered. She tossed her coat on his couch after closing his door. She didn't say a word to him, just watched him walk towards her. The look in her eyes was something he'd only seen once before, that other afternoon...

"Just let yourself right in, O'Connell," he said sarcastically. "Don't bother knocking or anything. You want a -"

She'd stepped forward, cutting him off with a kiss, wrapping her arms around his back. Like that moment in the barn, everything accelerated quickly from there. Before he'd even fully figured out what was going on, they were stumbling back towards his bedroom, kissing frantically, shedding clothes along the way.

He now retraced that path in reverse, picking up his t-shirt lying in the threshold to his room on his way to her in his kitchen. She was standing at his sink, glass in hand. 

He walked up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing the side of her neck.

She murmured a happy sound and leaned into his kiss, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. 

"Hey," he whispered into her ear, tugging teasingly on the belt to his bathrobe. "Come back to bed."

She started again, straightening her neck. "Ummmm." She set her glass, still half-full, into his sink and pulled out of his arms. "I gotta get dressed." She started back towards his bedroom.

"You can wear my robe; looks better on you than me." She didn't stop walking back to the bedroom. "But, uh, everything's kind of scattered back that way...hey, you want any help finding anything?"

"No, no."

He shook his head to himself and poured himself a glass of water instead. 

It had been good again - great, actually. They'd barely made it to his bed. None of this was how he'd pictured his night going. Not that he'd complain.

He'd finished his water and set his empty glass in the sink, picking hers up and starting towards his room. "O'Connell?"

"Yeah?" She walked into the living room, dressed but for her shoes. 

"Oh. Just... you didn't finish your water."

"I'm done. Thanks. Have you seen my shoes?"

"Your shoes? Oh, um...there. Behind you. By the wall over there."

"Thanks." She kneeled to pick them up and toe them on.

Why would she need shoes unless..."Are you...are you going?"

She couldn't meet his eyes as she stood and reached for her coat. "Yeah, Fleischman...early charter tomorrow. So... This was great though. See ya."

And with that, she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Family Feud

Joel swung open the door to his cabin, wondering what dinner would end up being tonight. He was exhausted and had no desire to make himself anything - it was well past too late anyway. Nothing had gone right today. Nothing but avoiding seeing O'Connell. At least he'd managed that. 

He hung his coat on the hook and locked the door behind him, chiding himself for not having locked it before leaving, apparently. He usually did. He was determined not to slip into a Cicely mindset on any front, to smooth his future transition back into civilization. 

Fuck dinner, he'd decided, kicking his shoes off. Fuck everything today, he'd just go to bed. Maybe he'd get up early and go for a run. He knew he probably wouldn't, but it might do him some good. Just zone out and think about nothing. Certainly not about O'Connell and that lunatic she'd apparently paired herself up with. 

Early on, after Mike had first appeared, he figured she'd just targeted him as someone unavailable to her. Partially because she kept picking guys who were wrong for her, but Joel also liked to think she'd done it even to screw with him a little. Make him jealous. What he saw of them yesterday, though, and his series of conversations with her made it impossible to continue along that line of thinking. They were together. He'd tried not to let it bother him but had failed miserably, embarrassing himself by trying to remind her that they'd once had something established between them, a concept she'd found laughable. 

They did have something, though. Not just that first afternoon in that barn, or that night she'd first brazened into his place and kissed him before they'd had slightly more dignified sex in an actual bed. Or the handful of other times these last two weeks she'd shown up unannounced and with that look in her eyes and they'd tumbled into bed...and then she'd leave. What had she been doing, anyway? And why did he let her? Not that it mattered now. She'd said, despite their attraction, they had no business being together, and that she wanted Mike.

He turned his living room lights off and entered his bedroom. She was waiting for him, sitting on his bed. 

"Oh come on, O'Connell. I don't want to argue with you about this anymore. I clearly misconstrued...everything between us. Go ahead. Go to Mike's with a clear conscience. We're still friends, okay? I don't want to have another..."

She stood, wrapping her arms around him, lacing her fingers behind his neck.

"What are you doing? I thought you..."

"Shut up, Fleischman."

She pulled him to her and kissed him. He felt that familiar electrical charge surge through him - the one that surfaced the moment either one of them put their hands on each other like this. He really shouldn't give into it, he thought. Not with everything she'd said in the last two days. Not if she was with another guy now. Then again, if she was, what the hell was she doing right now?

She had turned them and pushed him back onto his bed, straddling him, pulling desperately at the hem of his shirt and kissing his throat. Again, he'd had a flash in his mind that this was not right and that he should absolutely stop things and talk to her. But he didn't. And by the time he'd started thinking clearly again, it was over and she was snuggled into the crook of his arm, humming to herself, her fingers making light swirls across his chest. 

"O'Connell...that was...wow. I thought you were mad at me though."

"You *are* infuriating..."

"Funny. That's not what I meant, though. You spent most of yesterday reminding me that we don't have...a thing. You know?"

"We don't, Flesichman." Her hands stilled on his chest. 

"Well but...what was this just now?"

"I better go."

"What?!"

"Well, Mike and I were going to watch a movie later. I've got it in my truck and he's probably going to wonder..."

"You're going to his place?! Now?! O'Connell! What in the hell was all this about?"

"*This*," she said, moving to sit on top of him and look down at him happily, her hands sliding up his chest and into his hair. "This was *really* good. My vision went white at one point... You know, I think we actually get better at this every time we do it?" She curled her fingertips through his hair as she leaned down to kiss his neck.

He just stared up at the ceiling in disbelief, trying to fight to keep his mind on track despite the feelings her lips and fingers were shooting through him. "But you're leaving now? Why? Are you going to have sex with him tonight, too?"

"*That*" she said, anger rising in her voice, her mouth pulling off his neck, "is none of your damn business, Fleischman. Now, if you'll excuse me..." she leaned to roll off of him to go.

"Uh-uh." He rolled them over, so she was under him, pinning her wrists above her head with his hands to keep her from either bolting, hitting him, or both. He couldn't quite place the look in her eyes. "No, no, wait. What the hell is going on with us?"

Her breathing had quickened at the sudden movement and her suddenly submissive position. "Fleischman...you know, this is kind of fun" she said, tugging her wrists against his hands teasingly, grinning, her eyes locked on his mouth. Her pupils were dialated and her cheeks flushed pink. Now he recognized the look. Whatever ragged grasp he had on his self control was slipping again.

"I'm not letting you out of this bed until you tell me - are you two sleeping together?"

"Yes." Her eyes met his unapologetically and with that predatory gleam in them again. She wriggled halfheartedly against his hands which then opened to release her wrists. She didn't move them.

"Really?! But...then...what are you doing here? With me?"

"Let's find out," she whispered and the darted her tongue out to moisten her lips, never breaking eye contact. She was also running her toes along his ankle and giving him that look. So he cracked and kissed her. And she kissed him back, his hands sliding back over her hands to put his palms to hers, fingers entwining. And then... 

Well, he hadn't been proud of himself for giving into temptation and felt infinitely less so when she still left 20 minutes later, after they'd finished. He hadn't even bothered to get up as she left - she'd just kissed him once more, stood, dressed, and was gone, all while he watched her warily from his bed. And all without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Kaddish for Uncle Manny

Maggie's head lay on his chest, her arm across him, Joel's fingers stroking along it gently. That she was letting him was an achievement. He hadn't come close to understanding any of this in the weeks now it had been going on, but he knew that talking about anything substantive involving what they were doing and protracted displays of affection were the fastest way for him to make her leave. He loved holding her. And he really wanted her to stay right now.

"I liked hearing you read earlier." Her voice penetrated his thoughts, surprising him by not being the words 'well, I'd better go.' "I don't think I've ever heard someone speaking in Hebrew for that long. It's pretty."

Joel laughed. "That's the first time anyone's ever described spoken Hebrew as 'pretty'."

"It was. You read well, too."

"I don't really, if you know any Hebrew. I had to practice for an hour before, and I still struggled over a lot of those words. It's not even that long a prayer. Good thing we gave up on finding more Jews who could have noticed."

"I give up on trying to compliment you... I'm glad you did this anyway. I'm sorry about your uncle. He sounded like a nice man. A good guy to grow up around. Must be hard to have this happen and be so far away..."

This was the most they'd talked after...well after whatever it was they kept doing these nights. Sex, and then laying together until Maggie remembered the implications of it all and bolted.

Tonight had been especially weird. Not that any of these...meetings of theirs could be classified as normal, but tonight deviated from even their bizarre routine. She'd come home with him, after the kaddish with everyone, and had made him dinner. Normally, she just showed up late and gave him that look and they'd wordlessly fall into bed. Tonight, though, they'd had dinner, wine, and talked for a long time on the couch first. It felt like a date. She wanted to see his bar mitzvah photos again and then still more that he had of his family, him growing up, even old shots of he and Elaine from college. They talked for hours about his family and hers, her trip over to Anchorage, the baby on the way for Holling and Shelly, Maurice's schemes, the rest of Cicely. They even talked a little about her and Mike, and how she missed him. Felt glad she'd "cured" him. Felt like she was past her death curse with men now. Neither mentioned how they'd carried on together even when she was with Mike. He wondered if she'd been as candid with Mike as she had been with him about how she spent her other evenings. 

Later, there was a lull in the conversation, and she smiled at him. He was overcome, not with lust but affection for her, and he'd kissed her. He was never the one to start things, and he wasn't trying to this time. They kissed - just kissed - for a long time, there on his couch. When they'd finally come in here, it was much less frantic between them. Nothing like that time on his kitchen table. Or against the wall in the hallway. This was sweet. Romantic, even, if it had been anyone other than the two of them. Still great, but a little different. And now she was lingering in his bed, talking to him, and not running out the door. He figured he'd chance bringing it up.

"I'm sorry about Mike. I mean, I'm not, but I am. You know?"

"What does that mean, you're not but you are?"

"I mean, just. If he's in the picture, then... I'm not sure where I fit in, you know...and... I'm just glad you're here tonight. Is all."

"Fleischman, I'd better..."

"Stay," he jumped in before she could finish.

"What?"

"It's late, O'Connell. It's freezing out. My bed is warm. You don't need to go - you can stay."

He rolled on his side to face her, his hand moving to trace along the side of her waist. "I'd like you to. Please?" Where had that come from, he wondered? He sounded a little desperate. He felt a little desperate. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself this was just a physical thing, it wasn't for him.

Her face changed into one he couldn't quite read. "You don't want to be alone?"

"I want you to stay."

"Okay...okay."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek before nudging him onto his back and laying again at his side, draping her arm across him. He drifted off to sleep, wondering if all it would have taken before was just asking like this...But he awoke an hour later to the sound of the latch closing in his front door and found himself alone again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Birds of a Feather

"You've missed your family? Your parents? You like seeing them?"

"Well...obviously. They're my parents."

"You just seem really nervous. Plus, you've never had them visit before. You've lived here 3 years now."

"4. It's a long way away from New York, O'Connell. And my dad's got his business. The logistics are complicated, and my mom always overpacks and my dad and I argue. Just like today and..."

"I'm just asking, Fleischman. Calm down." She had her back against his chest as they whispered in bed, his arms wrapped around her. Her hair tickled his nose as he kissed the nape of her neck. This was, by no measure a wise idea, not that he had expected her to slip into his cabin and then bed in the wee hours. But he was glad to get to see her nonetheless. He always was.

Her implication had him on the defensive as usual. "I talk to my mom a lot. Phone calls. Letters, even. It's not like we aren't in touch. She's really interested in you, you know..." He almost kicked himself - that was definitely the wrong thing to say, particularly under these circumstances.

Maggie rolled over and pushed herself up on one arm to look at him. "Why?" 

"Because you're a single woman of childbearing age, I'm her only son, and she's not a grandmother yet. It's what moms do. Her being nosy doesn't mean anythi..."

"Wait, did you tell her about...this?" Her eyes narrowed a little, her whisper sharper in tone now than before. 

"Tell my *mom*? About the 50 some odd times you've turned up late at night and we've...no! No. Somehow I didn't think she wanted to know about this in great detail, no. That's why we're whispering in here, trying not to wake them up. Why I'm terrified we did earlier when we were... you know. That's why we're sneaking around at 2 am like two teenagers instead of you having dinner with us, like I asked. Like normal people do. It's why I seem nervous, if I even do."

She visibly relaxed smiling at him again. "I'm sure it hasn't been 50 times..." ('52,' he mentally corrected her. 'But who's counting.') "Okay. Good. Hey, speaking of sneaking around... I'd better..."

"Go? Yeah. I figured. See you." He couldn't help sound bitter and frustrated. He rolled over so his back was facing her. She moved against him so her chest was flush against his back and whispered in his ear again, her arm draped down across his chest.

"Hey, come on. You'll make me think you don't like these slumber parties of ours." She kissed the back of his shoulder. "And anyway, do you really want me to meet your mom bright and early for breakfast in just your old med school shirt and my panties, with my hair all ruffled up from late night sex?"

"You met her before when you flew them in. And your hair's fine." He laid flat on his back and grinned at her. "You were on top anyway. Mostly."

She leaned over to kiss him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Well, yours makes it pretty obvious what we've been doing in here. And I meant, is this really how you want her to find out I'm your..." she trailed off, her eyes leaving his and looking off to one side. 

"My...what?"

"Nothing." She dropped her head to plant a kiss on his chest. And then another, lingering one, a little further down. Trying to distract him, he figured. He was not leaving this topic that easily.

"No, finish your thought. How do you define this? I'm very curious." He moved to lay on his side again, ending her stream of kisses and facing her as she sat upright next to him. 

"Really great sex?" She smiled sheepishly at him.

"And that's it? That's what I am to you?"

"Um...you're a swell conversationalist, always up to date on world events. And...you always help up warm up my toes," she wiggled them against his legs. "You also give a great flu shot - I never even feel the needle! You are...not a great cook, though. Mmm, but a great kisser. Amazing kisser..."

She leaned to kiss him. He had the balls finally to pull away. "So this is just a physical thing, then?"

A flash of guilt went through her eyes. And something else he couldn't identify. "No...I don't know..."

"O'Connell..."

"I should go." She stood and started dressing quietly.

"O'Connell!"

"Fleischman! Shhh!" She threw a suspicious look at his door, as if his parents might be listening just outside. "Why is it so important to you that this have a label, anyway?" She whispered while she shimmied into her pants and clasped her bra.

"Because it's been going on for months now and I have no idea what the hell is happening or what my role in it is!"

"Shhh! Don't make it so complicated, just do what makes you happy. Okay?" She was seated at the foot of his bed, pulling on her hiking boots. He sat up behind her.

"You'd be staying tonight if we were doing what made me happy."

She paused as if considering this, her back to him, her shoes now on. She stood and walked to the head of the bed, kissing his cheek. "Fleischman, your parents are here. Let's talk about this another time." She ran her hand gently across his cheek, her eyes soft and a little guilty still. "Okay?" She ruffled his hair affectionately and turned to go.

"Do I have a choice?" he muttered as she slipped out his bedroom door, tiptoeing as she went.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Heal Thyself

"You got me in trouble, you know."

They were laying in Joel's bed, talking, again. She'd once again pulled on his Columbia sweatshirt, claiming to be cold. It was essentially hers at this point, he never wore it, just kept it washed and set out for whenever she turned up. The bedsheet covered their legs, and her feet were tangled in with his as she tried to warm them. They'd been talking for hours, and it was really late now. Longer than she'd ever stayed before, even now that they usually talked a long while afterwards. There was no way he was going to draw her attention to the time, though. 

The late hour had made him a little loopy and they kept sliding in and out of dangerous conversational territory, in terms of subjects that usually caused her to run. That she hadn't yet was making him less and less careful. 

"Trouble?"

"Yeah, with my mom."

She laughed out loud. "Your mommy's mad at you? You are a grown up, right? And how in the world can it possibly be *my* fault that your own mother is mad at *you*? Only you, Fleischman. Only your mind operates this way."

"Oh believe me, this is your fault. You're not as sneaky as you think you are. She saw you leave that time. She's a night owl, O'Connell, I tried to tell you that when you snuck in here that night. She heard someone up and looked out just in time to see you leave. So not only am I disappointing her by not marrying Elaine like I was supposed to, I'm now having secret sex with some mystery woman I didn't introduce her to who I can't keep my hands off of long enough not to sneak her in while my parents are visiting me. Almost all of which were unilaterally your decisions."

"You didn't exactly resist..."

"And it's horrible because my mom's just like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means this is beyond unpleasant for me. You're both just awful to have angry. Because it's not a silent, sulking anger that you keep to yourselves. It's this expressive, aggressive anger. One which she - like you - delights in reminding me she feels every time we talk. Plus, it's about sex. Which my mom and I used to be pretty comfortable pretending I don't have."

"And now she thinks you're some kind of a deviant!" Her eyes were sparkling happily at him, her expression teasing.

"Correction - she thinks *we* are deviants. You and I both. She knows it was you. The pilot."

She made a face, "How would she know? She didn't act like she did on that flight. But then again, it's never the woman's fault in these things. It's always the guy..."

"Not with Nadine Fleischman's baby boy it isn't...at least usually. And, no, she didn't know when you were flying her; she talked to Marilyn *after* they'd gotten back to New York."

"Wait, how's Marilyn know?! What did you say to her?"

"She knows however it is that she always knows about things. I didn't say anything, believe me. *I* still don't know what it is that we're doing - how am I going to tell Marilyn anything? I heard all this second-hand from my mom. She called and asked Marilyn who it was that I was sleeping with, and Marilyn cheerfully told her. Marilyn, who has said a grand total of 92 words to me in 4 years, apparently chats endlessly with my mom on the phone and has no concept of boundaries. And somehow Marilyn just knows... You don't even feel a little bit bad about this? For me? My mom's barely speaking to me still, despite calling here every week like clockwork. What she does say isn't very nice, either." He tried to look mad, but his eyes were smiling.

"Maybe I do, a little bit. But I do like this image she has of you now, as some pervert with limited sexual self control."

"Of us. She has that idea of the both of us. You're not gonna pin this on me. And she's kind of right." He rolled over to lie on top of her, chest to chest, and started kissing along her shoulder.

"Mmmm...that feels really...look, it's not like she's coming back here ever again, so I think I'll find a way to live with the shame of your mom thinking I'm...but Marilyn? I'm more worried about her." She pressed her hands to his chest, and he pulled himself onto his elbows to look at her. "What did she say, exactly? "

"Marilyn? Oh, just that we've been having sex for months now. And that we think no one knows." He leaned in to resume kissing her but she pushed him back again.

"Well. No one does know. Right?" Her eyes narrowed a little at him.

"Marilyn does. Apparently. Who knows who else does...God, I still itch. All over. How are there mosquitoes again?" He put his forehead on her chin, exhaling in frustration.

"You're the only one getting bit this time. And I thought that bath helped."

"It did. For awhile. So did what we did afterwards... I'm itchy again though."

"Want to get back in the bath?"

"No."

She laced her fingers through his hair. "Want me to help...take your mind off it again?" She had that familiar look to her eyes.

He grinned. "Yeah." He lowered his head down to kiss her.

"I am sorry about you and your mom." Her words stopped him just short of her lips.

"Oh, O'Connell, we'll work it out. Eventually. It's my mom. It'll just be a few weeks. This isn't going to turn into a protracted family feud. We're New Yorkers. We don't do latent hostility like you Midwesterners. We'll have it out at some point and then move on. And you can be embarrassed along with me when they come back out. Maybe you can just have dinner with us this time like I asked you to before."

She kissed his shoulder. "Okay, but I doubt they're going to make that cross country journey again."

He kissed along her neck to whisper in her ear. "Well, not tomorrow they're not. But she liked it here. I wouldn't be surprised if she came back next summer."

"But... you're...done soon." Her voice sounded funny as she hesitated to finish the sentence.

"Done with?"

"Done with your contract. Cicely."

He chuckled and kissed his way back to her ear. "Oh, yeah, that...I was trying to think of the right way to tell you...but I guess I have no choice but to just tell you this now." He whispered into her ear again, "I let my license lapse."

"Your driver's license?"

"No. My New York state medical license." He pulled back onto his arms to hover above her, his eyes cautious awaiting her realization and response.

"Fleischman! You idiot! That's a hell of a thing to forget to renew! That's gonna take you forever to get fixed, you know."

"'I know that...I, uh, did it on purpose."

"What? Why?" 

"I don't know...seems ridiculous to maintain two when I live here."

"But when you go back here pretty soon. It's going to take you forever to get anything back in place. Right? I'm just thinking of pilot licensure red tape and surely the AMA is at least as bad as the FAA. I can't believe you did that." This wasn't at all going like he'd planned, and he now was going to have to spell it out for her. His palms had started to sweat.

"O'Connell. You're not seeing what I'm... I'm thinking of not going back to New York. So I decided I just need the Alaskan license..."

She just stared in response. Her mouth opened but she didn't say anything. That was more like it.

He grinned at her. "I can show you my lapse notice if you don't believe me...so I'm pretty sure my mom's coming back here at some point. If I'm going to live here now. And then *you* can be the embarrassed deviant."

"Live here? You're joking."

"No I'm not."

"But why would you stay? You hate it here."

"Well, I do; everyone here is crazy...but it's growing on me. Slowly. A little bit. But with New York, it's been too long and I'm too different and I know you would never want to...Look, since it seems like we're not going to help me not feel itchy now, I might as well tell you the rest of this, too. Since it's related...Just promise you won't immediately run off after I say this. Like you do." He swallowed hard and looked directly into her eyes. "So. I'm...um...so l...okay."

She looked concerned. "Spit it out, Fleischman. What is it?"

He looked away and took a breath before meeting her eye again and then closing his again. "I'm trying, it's just...so..the thing is...I love you." He opened one eye in time to see her mouth drop open in response. He opened the other to look in her eyes. "I mean, technically, I think I'm *in* love. With you. So that's different than just... you know..." He trailed off.

"You love me?" He could not read her face - her surprise masked any other emotions she was feeling. 

"Yeah." He said softly while his whole face smiled, shyly. "I do. I can't explain why either. I mean, you go out of your way to be the opposite of everything I am wired to understand. And believe me, I've tried to ignore this and stop feeling this way, but I'm just hopeless. Over you. I need to stop pretending I'm not, too. And...I'm sorry, if it's not something you...I'm not asking you to...I mean, if all I ever get from you is...this. I can live with that. I think. I just need to be with you. So I really can't go back back to New York..."

Her eyes softened. "Fleischman...I..." she began, her hand moving to cup his cheek. His held a frozen breath. Was she going to let him down gently? Or was it possible she felt something more for him than just... 

They both jumped when they heard a noise from the living room. It was the unmistakable sound of the cabin's front door opening.

"Dr. Fleischman?"

"Ed?!?"

"Oh good you're here. Is Maggie here? Her truck's outside, too."

Their eyes met in mild panic. Joel rolled off of her, back to occupy his half of the bed, pulling the sheet up to his chest. He couldn't exactly jump up to meet Ed, with nothing on. Neither could Maggie, who had Joel's oversized shirt and hardly anything else on. Maybe he could quickly come up with a believable nonsexual reason they were lying in bed together well past midnight in various states of undress. The time to consider their options quickly ran out as Ed entered the bedroom to find them there.

"Oh, hi, Maggie. Dr. Fleischman? You need to come quick."

"What's wrong?"

"Shelly's sick. Holling says she's got a fever and is throwing up and something hurts. They're worried about the baby. Your phone wasn't ringing so I came to..."

Joel sighed. "Okay, Ed. Give me a minute to get dressed and get my stuff. Did you drive here?"

"Yeah. Holling's truck..." Taking an implied cue for once in his life, he continued, "I'll go wait. In it. Outside."

Ed slipped back out, and Maggie and Joel looked at each other.

"Go, go... of course. Shelly needs you.We can talk about this another time."

Joel closed his eyes in frustration, then turned to dress, grabbed his medical bag, and followed Ed outside.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After First Snow

At some point, they'd laced their fingers together while walking. A good portion of the town had made its way, as they had done, downtown to experience the snow and wish everyone 'bon hiver'.

As they walked and talked more, their tentative finger contact relaxed into actually holding hands. It was as if she forgot they were out in public. Or forgot to care, for once. For his part, he couldn't help but feel elated and silly all at once. Given the things he and this woman had done together, simple hand holding should have been a little trite. They seemed to do everything backwards, though, and he was excited. Any forward progress towards aligning their public and private behavior was welcome. Especially when private got more public and not the other way around.

They'd sort of agreed to forget that people - at least Marilyn and Ed - knew. Rather, he had assumed that they agreed by never having discussing it together. Nor had they discussed anything else of what he'd told her that night Ed had found them.

For as bossy and take-charge as they both usually were, they were passive in the extreme when it came to whatever was going on with them. And that 'whatever' happened just about every night now. And it was almost enough for him. Almost.

Downtown, as the greetings and well wishes trailed off, people began to make their way either back home or over to the Brick, where an impromptu festive gathering appeared to be just getting started. 

Without thinking, he had followed the crowd and started walking in that direction, but he felt a pull at his hand and felt her breath tickle his ear as she whispered, "Fleischman... let's get out of here..."

"You don't want to go to the Brick and have a..."

He turned and saw the glint in her eyes and the subtle shake of no, and all thoughts of anything other than getting back to his place immediately disappeared. "Okay, let's go."

He'd driven them there from her place, so they slid into the cab of his truck and started towards his cabin. It was silent most of the way, and silence, as it usually did, caused him to start babbling as they pulled near his cabin.

"I'm trying to remember - is it early for the first snow? When was it last year? In New York it was usually November. Maybe December. Before I moved here, I remember thinking Alaska wasn't really that much further north so how much colder and snowier could it really get up here?" He laughed and realized he was laughing alone. "You know? O'Connell?" And talking to himself apparently. 

"Hmm?"

"The snow. The, uh, weather. Nevermind. What are you thinking about?"

"Are you really in love with me?" Well, that had finally resurfaced. He figured if they hadn't talked about it in the weeks that followed him saying it, it would never come up again. And that he had his answer about how she felt. The tone of her voice was strange, a little impatient-sounding or something near it. He wanted badly to see the look on her face, but kept his eyes focused on his parking, considering how to answer her.

"Ummm...well, yeah. Yes. I told you I was. Am. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Just wondering."

"Ah. Well. Okay. I'm in love with you. Still." Were they finally going to talk about this?

"Is your mom still mad at you?"

"A little bit. We...hold on. No! I don't really want to talk about my mom." They'd arrived at his cabin, and he'd killed the engine. They had exited the truck and started up his porch stairs. Having waited all this time for the topic to come up again, he really didn't want it to slip away again so easily.

"I'm sure you don't, given what I plan to do to you when we close this door..." He could see the moonlight twinkling in her eyes. The second this door got shut, their conversation would be over.

"Wait, O'Connell..." Like an old movie trope, he could almost picture his conscience taking the form of a devil and an angel on each shoulder. "Do not do anything more with her until you've said your peace and asked her what's going on." "Don't say a damned word. Look at the look in her eyes. Remember how it is with her? Shut up and go with the program and talk about that bullshit some other time." The devil usually won, but the angel's voice had been getting louder and harder to ignore, particularly since he'd told her he loved her and then they'd never spoken of it again.

"She brought it up - she must want to talk about it," one side of his conscience argued. "Yeah, but then she changed the subject. Anyway, who cares if she loves you back...she's with you right now, whatever this is between you doesn't appear to be stopping, and she does spectacular things to you with her body."

He continued to fumble with his keys, his mind distracted with its own inner argument. "Fleischman... this is why you shouldn't bother with locking this door..." she slid her hand down his arm, gently took his keys, unlocked and opened the door. She entered, turned, hooked a finger in his collar, and tugged him inside. With her other hand, she slammed the door closed behind him, pushed him back against it, and slid her hands inside his coat. "Mmm you're warm..."

He stared at her, his conscience still undecided. "Ask her how she feels..." but then again, "Fuck feelings - the couch is just 3 steps to your left..."

She pressed her lips to his just as he said, "Wait. Wait. Stop." He wasn't sure if he was talking to his warring subconscious or Maggie. She was, of course, the only one who could talk back. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just..."

The look in her eyes changed. "You want to talk. About us."

"I'm sorry. I do. I've been really good about not saying anything but I have to. No matter how much I'm probably going to regret it..."

They hung their coats and sat on the couch together. He looked at her, with no idea where to begin or even what to say. 

"O'Connell...you know I'm terrible at this, right? I've had one girlfriend in my life. We got together when I was 13 and then we got engaged in college. I literally never had to think about how or what I felt because it was all laid out for me with nothing to decide. And then I met you. And I haven't understood a single thing since then."

She smiled a little at that. 

"And then there's you. You actually know what you're doing. I mean, you've done this before. A couple of times. Right?"

"Done what?"

"Been in love. I mean, Rick and Glen and...which was the guy that froze to the glacier?"

"Dave. ...But, Fleischman?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't love any of them. I've never been in love before."

"You haven't?"

"Not until now."

"Oh... Wait, *now*? Who are you in love with?" Mike's image loomed in his mind as he braced for her answer.

"Who? You, you idiot."

"Oh...Oh! Wait, you..." His face froze, mouth hanging open.

"I kind of feel like you do, you know? I mean I'm an adult, 30-some odd years old, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do next when I fall in love."

"Hold on, go back - are you telling me that you love me?"

"Well, yes. Of course I do." She looked at him in that way she had, where he knew she couldn't believe how stupid he was. "Wait, you didn't know that?"

"Ah, no. I didn't. You've never actually said that. Told me. So that's probably a thing you could have done next - you could tell the other person. You love me?" One corner of his mouth had turned up into a tentative smile, as he felt both immense joy and intense fear, as if she was going to take it back away from him in a moment.

"Well, what did you think all this was?" she said, gesturing in the direction of his bedroom. 

His face turned indignant. "You said it was really great sex! Swell conversation! Staying warm! Pick your reason, but you never once said love!"

"Well, it was. Is." She had the decency to look a little chagrined. "Don't you think that's probably why it's so good between us?"

"You're saying you love me?"

"Yes, Fleischman. Do we have to keep repeating ourselves?"

"It sure would make me feel better. I thought all this time it was this some pathetic, one-sided...and that you didn't..."

"Well, I do." Her gazed dropped to watch her hands. His followed and he noticed that, despite her placid facial expression, she was fidgeting, her fingers moving nervously in her lap. "Look, the truth is, it just makes me uncomfortable to talk about this. I'm not used to this. Feeling like this. About you. And you being so nice to me. Or me being this nice to you."

"I wouldn't exactly characterize your behavior of late as being 'nice' to me!"

Her eyes snapped back up to meet his, irritated. "And why not?"

"Why not?! You are incredibly secretive about this, for one, and get exceptionally annoyed at any possibility I might have mentioned any aspect of this to another living being. And I haven't. But that doesn't exactly come across as kind to me. For another thing, you leave every night like you can't get out of here soon enough."

"I stay a long time these days, Fleischman. I've been staying here so late these last few weeks, I'm a zombie most days. They should probably take my license away."

"Late, but not all night. Never once. For another thing, you get closed off when I do anything even approaching romantic or commital. Or even try to discuss any of this with you. I thought you were trying to tell me you didn't... but then you kept turning up. And we kept... And you're telling me this is all because you're not used to us being nice?!?"

"No! If you must know, I also didn't want to seem like I was getting too attached."

"Well, thanks O'Connell, but you screwing Mike pretty well shored that up for me. I definitely got the sense you weren't particularly attached to me when you left here to go do that with him." This wasn't going to help this conversation. And he'd been so good tamping down his feelings about the Mike thing...

"You're forgetting I also kept screwing *you* that whole time." Her eyes were defiant now, or trying to be through a haze of guilt. "And I only slept with him twice. Well, three times. That's it, though."

"Oh that makes it all better, thanks, O'Connell." He winced a little at the confirmation that she really had done what she'd said she had before. He'd been holding onto a small hope before that maybe she'd just said it to prompt a reaction in him.

She couldn't maintain eye contact with him any longer, her eyes back watching her hands. Her voice had softened and struggled to maintain its indignant tone. "Oh, be reasonable. It was never like it was with you anyway. I didn't love him..."

"Then why..."

Her eyes met his again, and her anger had dissolved into something that looked a little sad. "I owe you no explanation of what I did. You and I had no...formal...anything. What did you expect me to do? Since the day you moved here, you've been planning to move away! Delighting in telling me that. I had to do something to protect myself against that, keep a wall up. Not let things get too close. And maybe it wasn't the best thing, but it's what I did. And then Mike was the one who left and you decided to stay. And then you told me what you did and then Ed showed up before I could say anything back and things were fine between us and...well...I guess it kind of slipped my mind after that, ya know?" She smiled, anticipating his irritation.

"Slipped your mind?! I told you I was in love with you! Weeks ago. And you just forgot to tell me how you felt? Figured you'd just keep this all to yourself for awhile? And tell me...when exactly? Next year? At our wedding? On my deathbed?"

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Fleischman. Look. You know now. And we're not getting married."

"Oh like hell we're not!"

"I thought you said you were fine if all I could give you was intermittent sex!"

"I was when I thought that's all you had to give. But now I know you love me! Now I want the whole package - you, conversation, warm feet, sex, staying the whole night, marriage, a legitimate meal in shame with my mom...all of it."

"Well...okay...but I'm not changing my last name for you."

"Fine. You know, I'm not asking you anyway. Not right now, at least."

"But I know you're going to, so I'm just warning you. Setting some expectations. Oh, and I like my place better than yours. We're not living here."

"Okay. Noted. Anything else? China pattern preferences?" He rolled his eyes. "Why do we only do this here, if you like your place so much?"

"We do this here *because* I like my place. I told you... I think I've done a lot of what I did in case you decided to leave in the end. That way my house wouldn't have those memories, and I could..."

"O'Connell?"

"Yeah?"

"You're nuts."

"Shut up Fleischman." She had that look in her eyes again - the one that meant they were rapidly nearing the end of their conversation. This time, both sides of his conscience were in full agreement as he rose and pulled her to her feet. 

"You are. And so am I. But I love you anyway," he whispered as his lips met hers.

\---

The next morning, he awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. Maggie wasn't next to him, but she'd been wrapped around him most of the night and where she had been sleeping was still warm. He stretched and moved to get up, but the phone stopped on its third ring. 

He took his time getting up, replaying last night in his mind. He didn't know where things stood exactly, but at least he knew how she felt now. They had plenty of time to figure out what came next. He finally got out of bed to look for her, and felt around on the back of his bathroom door for his robe, but it was gone. He went to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweats and an extremely old and tattered Bronx Science t-shirt and made his way to the kitchen.

He found Maggie there, sitting in his robe, a pair of his boxers, and that damn Columbia shirt, her bare feet propped on top of his kitchen table, with the phone to her ear. She smiled at him and gestured to a second cup of coffee on the table. Her eyes drifted downwards and her smile turned to a judgmental frown as she pointed to his shirt and shook her head 'no.' All without missing a word of her phone conversation. 

"Mmmm, I completely understand....oh he is. He definitely is...right, right." She laughed at whatever the person on the other end of the line had said, her eyes watching him as he sat.

'Who is it?' he mouthed as he slid into the chair to sip his coffee.

"Yes, completely neurotic...exactly...Well...oh no, of course not. No, no, I should be apologizing to you..." she laughed again and he gestured for her attention and mouthed his question again. 

She rolled her eyes and looked annoyed. 'Your mom,' she mouthed back.

His eyes widened, his head vigorously shaking 'no' as he reached for the phone. She swatted his hand away. "Sure, sure. I will....Right, I'm looking forward to it...I'll tell him. It's been so nice talking with you, Mrs. Fleischman...oh, well, then, Nadine... Thank you... Sure...You too. Bye!" 

As she replaced the phone in its cradle, she smirked. "Your mom says hi. And she's not mad at *me* anymore... never really was...she definitely thinks it was your fault now."

Ignoring his shocked and irritated expression, she pulled her feet down, stood, and leaned over to kiss him. "'Morning. I made us breakfast." She stood to bring the dishes to the table, and laughed a little at his unchanging and traumatized expression. 

"Hey, you said you wanted the whole package...and now you've got it, pal. Anyway, let's eat. You're going to be late to work. And I've got a noon charter."


End file.
